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"Are there any dragons in this story?
"Lord, as we needeth more of the fantastical. . .", rolling his eyes at the suggestion of dragons. "If the beasts ever existed, which I find very unlikely, good and honorable knights extinguished them long ago. If Chislev where a real god, certainly it would be the Knights, or Ergoth, or some truely noble people to find him, not some backwater elf-commoner from this Solace. No offense intended.", he says in a hushed voice to Trap.
"My uncle trapmaker saw a dragon he did with his own eyes he did, saw it for certain an uncle trap was very certain of lots of things, but he was most certain of seeing a dragon."
Dorum holds his right arm showing his scaley leather gaunlet. "Oh yeah Donner, my gaunlet was crafted from a green dragons scales. Is that proof enough of there existence." It kinda looks like gator scales to you guys.
Hu'tonkton watched the temple's entrance from behind one of the giant vallenwood trees. No one reappeared from within. He'd been hoping for a quiet word with the priest, but it seemed his choices were limited; either wait for the strange foursome to leave the temple, or head in after them. The man-eating vines, as well, had retreated inside.
Long he had walked this strange land in search of such magics. Near as long, he'd been disappointed. Though he'd seen a great many things since arriving - even now, it was impossible to look upon the vallenwood trees with anything less than amazement - there was nothing truly wondrous here. In his deepest heart he'd feared all of the magic had truly fled the world. And now this.
He'd been following a cold trail of vague rumor and wild story for so long that, to see magic manifest, he found he could not move. He wanted to run into the temple and shake the answers from the priest. Instead, his knees trembled and he sank to the ground.
"Get up," he mumbled in his native tongue. "You can not help father on your knees."
Every night while resting he'd pictured his father as last he saw him - gaunt and withered, shivering under a blanket. But of late he'd been unable to recall his father's face. Had he been gone too long? Was it too late? Did he quest on in vain, after a cure for a dead elf? And even if he found a miracle, how could he return to his home? He'd hidden the little ship he'd used to cross the seas under a bed of seaweed, but surely it was long gone, returned to the seas or taken by men.
But he'd come too far not to see this through. He would not give up. Naught else mattered.
Hu'tonkton hopped to his feet and scampered across the lawn. He reached under his traveling cloak, loosening the twin blades worn on his hips. He hoped not to find strife within the temple, but he'd be ready if it found him. He kept the hood draped low across his brow. One thing he'd learned quickly upon arriving here was that elves did not usually receive the warmest of receptions. Best to keep his face from the light until he was alone with the priest.
He moved to the entrance and looked inside, following after the foursome after it appeared they would not be leaving. "Greetings," he called out in a loud voice. "Might I have a private word with you, holy one?"
The elf rises and turns to face the doorway. Nothing is private- Chislev sees all and hears all. Let me tell you of his glory.
He seems to lean back, raising both arms like branches reaching for the sky.
You know of the cataclysm; and you hear it called the day the gods left mankind alone. Yet that is not true. It is man who turned from the gods. Our punishment was well deserved. The gods never left. In the case of Chislev, the faithful returned to the earth- rooting themselves in place. This place, these might trees, are the most devout of Chislev's circles. He places his hand on the young vallenwood that has sprouted on the altar. Their husks they sacrificed to leave behind Chislev's blessings; and until we he points to his companions and then to himself who were uninitiated, opened our ears and hearts to their voices. Now Chislev speaks. He warned us of the return of the evil gods, and of the reluctance of the gods of good to choose their champions of this new age.
knowledge religion
"Who is that?"
"I best go see."
Hu'tonkton watches as the kender wanders near. Stand aside, little one. Your elders are talking.
Hu'tonkton takes a few steps deeper into the temple. He calls out in elven to the priest.
I too love the tree and root, the branch and leaf. Would Chislev share a boon with this one, who has come from across the seas?
The newcomer asking for silence and being passed over immediatly the kender moves around the elf.....
Stealth
Sleight of hand
DM
Anything look interesting?
Rumal whips his head around as the newcomer enters, almost knocking himself off balance. When he regains his stance, he scoffs, "G'norin a kender's like trine ta g'nore a hanguvver." When the elf speaks to the ranting priest, the gnome scowls and huffs irritatedly.
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I'll place a calming hand on Rumal's shoulder, not sure what he said, but guessing it was somewhat, . . . challenging. "Just how many elves are there around these parts? Two are almost more than I hath seen together in my life. I wish to see what they do. Besides, I have not seen him before now, and yet he walketh in here neither hindered nor fearfull. It is said that the elfkin are knowledgeable of magic and wizardry. Maybe he might sense the deception these "priests" use where we are unable?", still fully believing that the priest is another masquerading wizard out to rob the common man and spread more supersticious lies.
"Oh great another elf, thats just all we need right now." Durom mutters as he see's the newcomer. He holds his hammer tight and grumbles at the New elf "YOu with him pointy ears? Or might you be the curious sort?" The dwarf gains a smirk as he notices the elf let the kender behind him.
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Stilll whispering to his companions, "Mayhap we should say something. He doth seem a little out of sorts, and might not be familiar with Kinderways. It would not be good if this escelated to violence. I am still bound by my oath, after all".
, and he does look like a warrior after all.
"Sir-Elf. It is not wise to "ignor", Janos taps his own belt pouches, <very secure and triple-Kinder-Proofed by the way, something about floating plants that live off of air>, "the mighty little Kinder, with a soft smile. I hope he caught my meaning. . .
"Spoil sport yer fer waggin yer tongue when yah should be waggin yer sword and tha opposite is also true!"
Trap smiles a big smile
"I betyah could bore an ogre tah death!"
Hu'tonkton looked between the four strangers. He had startled them from their task, whatever they had been about within the temple. It did not seem they would be so easily passed over, but he knew his matter was of higher import.
He looked down on the gnome.
Hu's eyes shifted to the human. So self-important, men were. And this one looked more stuffed than most. Still, he seemed the most level-headed of the lot.
You there. Do these little ones belong to you? Control them, before I shorten them further.
Hu' stepped away from the kender, frowning with irritation that the little creature had managed to sneak around him so easily. The path nears its end, but focus is yet required.
He stopped in front of the human and looked him in the eye. I have come from faraway with important matters for the priest. Elven matters. I bid you to grant me a quiet word with the holy one.
More like you feel a weight upon your pouches and look down and see a big smiling face looking up at you......
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Hearing the Elf's words reminds Janos just how much he has to bare sometimes. His friends where not "his to control", but at the same time, he was both a noble and a knight, and so it was his responcibility to guide thier behavior towards higher, more civilized levels.
Not the deities, but some destiny had paired him with a Dwarf, a Gnome, and a Kinder, and possibly an Elf from the wilds as well? While not a crime, Janos was knighted, the son of a Count and decendant from the last High Clerist of the Knights of Solomnia, a rank he himself aimed to reclaim. Consorting with what his parents would concider deviants would surely make his ancestors turn in their graves, if not break his mother's heart and cause his father to lower his noble head in shame. And here he was. And childhood stoies of Huma had once seemed so harsh. . .
He was crtain that when he wasn't around, they made jests of him. Stuffy shirt. Mr. No-fun. Holier than thou. Self-righteous "prick", amongst other things. But that's ok. One day, he would have the power. And they would see. They would all see. . .
"If thou hast important business, we shall respect thy time and give thee a moment", making a motion for the others to follow him away for a moment, "alone. We have issues with the "priest" as well, though. Between him and the Seekers, there is much unrest in this town, and murders that need to be answered for." Janos walks a few paces away, hoping that the others come as well, so as not to overhear the elves private discussion, but close enough in case the "priest" tries any more wizardly magic.
Hu'tonkton nodded in thanks and was halfway to the priest when the man's final words stopped him. Murders?
He reminded himself that the affairs of men were not his concern. Did the fox worry over the cackling crows, squabbling over scraps? No. Nor should Hu'tonkton, not when matters both pressing and personal were forthright in his mind. Did men and their little friends come in aid while the Kagonesti bled?
And yet.
Murder. The word fell leaden on his tongue. A foul thing that must be answered for. In a world increasingly given over to madness, balance must be honored.
He turned his head to look back at the man. All the sudden he felt the long leagues on his body. He swayed on his feet. His mouth was dry, but Hu'tonkton forced the words out. Speak truly now. These... murders. Is this one responsible? This lover of branch and root?
At the elf's admonition Rumal tries desperately to stick his tongue out far enough to be able to see it, at times his eyes crossing in intensity and determination. In his concern he asks the Kender, "Heh Thwap, duh muh muth ooh uhee wif am evin tum?"
His obsession with trying to see his tongue consuming him.
The druid holds up a hand. Murders? There is no murder in war- this was a battle of branch for branch, and with Chislev's grace we won. Creatures of man, I warn you again- this is a place of peace now, you should not fight here. Ask us what you will, sir elf.
Hu'tonkton looked between the priest and the human. He suddenly felt unsure what to believe. He decided to put aside the question for now, and speak on the matter that had brought him to Solace in the first.
He moved near to the priest and spoke in a low voice. Though the pesky gnome seemed rather preoccupied with examining his own tongue, Hu'tonkton preferred his matter kept quiet.
I have searched long for a sign of the gods. For a magic that might restore my father. Rumor brought me to this place, and my own eyes can scarce believe the power you possess.
It may be too late for him. Yet I must know if you, by Chislev's grace, could undo what was done.
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Speak truly now. These... murders. Is this one responsible? This lover of branch and root?
"I know not, and am here to learneth the truth. I am a Seeker, shifting his gaze towards the Elf-Priest of Chislev to gauge his reaction, "but I am not sure if the Seekers here can be trusted. The seem,. . . more interested in politicks, than one of "the faith" aught to be<ith>."
Murders? There is no murder in war- this was a battle of branch for branch, and with Chislev's grace we won. Creatures of man, I warn you again- this is a place of peace now, you should not fight here.
"I, . . . we have come to find the truth. Beyond thy smoke and mirrrs, or the deceptions and politicks of thy local Seekers. If thou art a "true priest" of a "true god", showeth unto us that thy miracles are more than naught but the trice-bedamned wizardry of the Towers, that I have seen more than a once. I remindeth thee again, I am bound by mine oath, and thou knowest from mine actions earlier when I freest thou, and elso warnest thee that the Seekers saught your death in the mourning, that I speakest only truth and am a man of honour. Speak to thine kin", motioning towards the new elf, "I will wait."
[ooc]I'm not trying to drag this out, I just feel like it would be metagamming to just accept what the priest says, and honestly believe he is just another wizard trying to scam the people. At the ame time, the local Seekers seem more interested in polital power than actually finding a "true" deity.
"I know it's a rare case, but I agree with you Donner. This one has no powers from tha gods, it only the bag that grants his power. And that smells of wizard trickery, if you wish to prove your power lad throw that bag to the side and show us this cheeseleaf's blessings upon you." Durom taunts the elf.
The elf takes his satchel off, dropping it to the ground. His pet vine untangles itself from him and slithers over to the young valenwood tree. "Proof of Chislev's favor?" He asks. Without hesitation he unsheathes a dagger from his belt and draws it accross the length of his arm leaving a deep gash and gushing blood onto the floor. He begins speaking and gesturing in a strange language, and places his uninjured hand on the wound. It closes, leaving only a faint white scar.
For several long moments, Hu'tonkton stared at the place where the rend in the priest's flesh had been. The scar continued to fade away until even his sharp eyes could find no trace.
Is this some matter of trickery? He started to reach out to touch the priest's arm but stopped himself short. Have I finally found the impossible, that which I fear had fled this world?
Forgotten was concern over the murders the human had spoke of. The gods have returned. They have returned and my father may yet be saved.
He tore his eyes from the healed arm and found the priest's eyes.
Speaking in common, for the benefit of all ears, the druid continues. Chislev is the balance of nature- the warmth of the summer sun on ripening plants and the cold of winter driven the trees to shed their leaves. Chislev grants us power to restore the balance. Here you see the slaughtering of her gift to us- the dead vallenwood are both insult and injury to her. I feel her wrath and have acted as her agent to return the balance. In time this tree will replace the one that we lost; and my companion who gave up his humanoid shell to be one with the earth will be missed but has been granted a gift reserved for only the most devout followers. I hope when my time comes that the world mother will rebirth me as a mighty vallenwood.
He turns to the wild elf. It is rare I use my native tongue, so I will speak frankly for all to hear. Chislev graces me with minor healing magics, her domain is more of the beasts and the plants of the world- her solution for disease is to burn out the damaged area. I'm afraid even the archdruids of old wold be hard pressed to cure major illnesses. You may have to find an agent of Mishakal, the goddess of healing, for that level of divine art. If you are interested in devotion to Chislev- to connect with the earth itself- we can initiate you in her ways.
He drops the name of the goddess of healing as if they walk the land still... perhaps he knows something of where one might be found.
"So what gods are left and which ones are gone, and where did the ones that are gone go?"
All of the gods of men wait for their devotion to return; when proved they will all return. Some are eager and will seek out champions, and some will wait for champions to come to them. We found Chislev over 100 years ago, and learned her teachings from holy disks left in an abandoned city. Prayer in the correct steps brought her attention to us. spoke the elf.
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"I have wandered and searched for evidence of true faith for years. For five years, we dedicated out lives to that quest. I know that none of thine gods have saught champions from amongst the Knights. And you say that thou hast found it, from discs, over a hundred years ago, whilst the rest of the world hast not?"
"Bah Disks! If this be true, then the dwarves would of heard from Reorx by now!" The dwarf grumbles.
Durom tries to hide his intrest of these disks and just stands there with his arms crossed.
Hu'tonkton listened to the others voice their disbelief. How can they be so blind, in the face of such obvious power?
You say the gods are among us again. This one believes. Mine heart beats with yours, brother elf. I too hold the forest sacred. In that way, I would know Chislev.
Where might the searching start, for the goddess Mishakal? It seems she is whom I must needs beg before.
Rumal just watches the whole thing, uncertain what to make of it. He doesn't much care for the human's constant cries about their gods, or the priests claims about this Chislev. As far as he's concerned Reorx didn't go anywhere, he was just busy at the forge. That in mind, however, he would have to agree with Durom. If the gods are making themselves known, the least Reorx could do is check in once in a while. He decides to stand with Durom on this one, moving beside him and mimicking the dwarf's posture to the best his wobbly ability allows.
Durom looks down at the gnome and nods approval to his cousin kin. "Good job lad, you prove that you got dwarven blood in your tree." He then looks back over to the pair of elves, "Seen that trick before, try again pointy ears." He growls.
His eyes stares out wandering if he could be telling the truth, Could this elf speak truth. Why wouldn't Reorx speak to him, like this claims cheeseleaf speaks this radical.
"Ancient tablets? Why was Cheslev not know before, was he asleep an was awoken by your urging?"
The grey haired elf pulls out a thin leather string around his neck, on which a wooden, twisting symbol hangs. Reorx, Mishakal, all of the gods wait for their faith in humanity to be restored before they begin granting boons. When the true priests left, they took with them their holy symbols and their payers. Once men start praying the prayers, the gods will hear them. They will re-gant their gifts. The first step is to open your hearts and minds to your chosen patron. He sighs.
But it is not quite that easy. The disks, known as the Disks of Mishakal, began as a library of healing knowledge and slowly expanded to match the prayer books of all of the gods- even the evil deities. What started as an academic endeavor now represents the last repository of priestly knowledge outside of the Great Library in Palanthas. They were housed in the mighty city of Xak Tsaroth. The city collapsed during the cataclysm and many of the building sunk into a hallow below the former city. It was in these ruins that my journey for truth took me- and there I found the giant disks, affixed to the former temple walls- buried deep beneath the earth. He bends over and pulls a leather scroll case from his pouch. Unfurling it, you see rubbings of words and symbols on a thin parchment. I did not copy all of it- Chislev's words to man are few. The other gods are a bit more... verbose. But the main prayers are here- and it was enough to open my ears, heart, and mind to the great earth mother.
His voice drops low, almost a whisper I'll warn you this: you are not the only ones who know of the disks. Chislev guided me there; and the champions of the dark lady surely found their way there as well. Their evil spreads like wildfire across this land- igniting dry souls with hellfire flames. Without good waters to quench them, this land will be consumed. If you seek your gods, you'll find them in Xak Tsaroth- but be careful.
Rumal puffs himself up in a display of vigor, before letting slip a most unruly belch, blowing the wind from his newly puffed lungs. He snickers lightly, then apologizes quietly, regaining his serious mein. "Well then, Doorum, we shud be offta Sak s'roth, to fine out why Reors hassen stopt by ta say hello to our peebles." He straightens his gear and turns wobblingly to make for the door, before looking over his shoulder to address the elven priest "Coodjoo tell Cheeslef, that if they see Reors, to tellim weer lookin ferim?"
Hope blossomed in Hu'tonkton's chest, as the flower before the sun. All this time. All the long, cold leagues passed. All the trials he'd known. Finally, fruit borne from the sweat and blood he'd lost in this strange place.
He addressed the elf, bowing his head in reverence. Then it is to Xak Tsaroth that I go, though this one does not know the way. Might you have a map, or other means of lighting the path?
He heard the words of the man and his drunken gnome companion. What need have they of this truth? Had they suffered as had he? All have suffered for the god's absence, he reminded himself. Still, he could not help but hope they could be dislodged from this course.
"Dangers you say, hear tha let us away swiftly!"
"Come on we have a place to go!"
"Then we will seek out your proof at this place, I searched farther then that for the last 5 years. Good thing you caught me before, I truly took off me boots. Xak Tsaroth you say, I think Grandad told of that place..." Durom ponders for a moment.
Knowledge of Mishakal 10+
Mishakal is the goddess of healing and companion to Paladine the high god of good. She, like the other gods, absconded with her true priests prior to the cataclysm and with her left all forms of higher magic healing.
Xak Tsaroth score 20+
Xak Tsaroth was a colony of the Solomnic empire on the coast. It was mostly known for it's huge port. Any good from far flung continents were sold in it's sprawling markets. The city was divided into two tiers, one a merchant class and lower port city stretching from the sea up to the nearby cliffs, the second perched high upon the cliff where the rich had sprawling mansions, theaters, and libraries devoted to arts and literature. In one of these libraries a massive collection of holy writing (including good, evil, and neutral god's holy books) were etched into platinum plates for display. The city was abandoned after the cataclysm- thousands die when the sea rushed over the merchant town up to the cliffs, and the upper city was left in ruins and half sunk into the interior of the cliff.
Knowledge Geography for figuring out how to find the city.
Knowledge geography
"Whose house are we tryin tah find?"
I have no map- it was foolish wandering that brought me to the ruins. North and east, on the edge of the ocean you'll find the dead city. Perhaps not so dead- we've heard rumors of other pilgrims seeking their gods. You see before you the influence of the Dark Lady returning- I fear more of her minions are abroad.
He gladly shares with you the writings of the church of Chislev. They are written in a gnarly druidic language- incomprehensible to anyone without a linguistics check or magic. Further, he offers each player 3 bloody red berries from the assassin vine, enhanced with Chislev's magic. One berry can sustain a person as if they had 3 full meals, and double the rate of natural healing for that day. You are free to rest here or move on. The druid's knowledge of the ruins is limited to his visit several hundred years ago. He has not returned since.
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Turning towards Hu'tonkton, "Sir-Elf, we hath quested for a sign of any true deity for years on years. This is not the first ancient city or mysterious cave we hath been sent to for a sign, and I hold a doubt it will be the last. However, as we both travel to the same location is out searches, I would offer thee a place with us. At the very least, we might become friends and their is certainly a wisdom in numbers. I've spent some time studying with the elfkin their knowledge of hebalism and the healing arts, so I am not a total outsider to your ways. I would be honored to have you with us."
"These are wonders indeed, thanks for tha treasure-berries. I know they are them cause o wha they does, mah uncles had some o them berries many years agone. I bet tha better stuff is at the dead city, lets go see who lives there now!"